


Choices

by maurheti



Category: Southland
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maurheti/pseuds/maurheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben wants what he can't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Coda to 2.06 "Maximum Deployment"

Ben hasn’t slept in a while. He’s so tired that the pot of coffee he had earlier doesn’t even make a dent, just causes him to be more aware of how heavy his body seems. He can feel the blood circulating, delineating the boundaries of his skin. 

He’s so tired he can’t sleep, can’t even sit down; all he seems to be able to do is wander through his house: kitchen, living room, patio, living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. He catches his reflection in the mirror. He should shave. He leans forward, palms on the marble vanity. Cold. It feels cold. It takes a while for that thought to form. He looks at himself. _What do you want?_ It’s not even a real question, more a statement, a reminder that he has choices. 

Bedroom, kitchen, living room, patio. His bare feet are silent on the hardwood, the flagstones. Even in the sunshine, his palms still feel cold. 

Living room. He looks around. He loves his house. It’s the one thing besides his car and his bike that he spent serious money on. Transportation so he can leave. Shelter so he can stay. 

_What do you want?_ Choices. _I choose to be a cop._ John said that being a cop wasn’t a choice. You either were, or you weren’t. John had said a lot of things. So had Chickie, day before yesterday at the bar, her gaze hard. He had looked away, but he had heard her. 

Kitchen. There’s beer in the fridge. Choices. _I choose not to have a beer._ Ben grabs a water instead. His palm feels cold again, and damp from the condensation. It would feel the same from the beer. He leaves the water on the kitchen island. 

Bedroom. The comforter is crooked. 

Bathroom. _What do you want?_ Ben can hear himself breathing. He turns out the light, pulls his t-shirt over his head, turns on the shower. Pushes his sweatpants down and off. The water is still cool when he steps under it. _I want._ He runs his hand over his chest, down his stomach, stops just below his navel. _Nothing._

The water skips and jumps over his hand, warmer now. He braces himself against the tiles with his forearm, other hand moving again, down his thigh, up, fingers curling loosely around his dick. He’s not hard, not even close. 

_What do you want?_ After Chickie left him at the bar, Ben had gone back to John’s house, knocked, waited. Knocked again, adrenaline streaming through his body now, ready to break down the damned door. 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut, rests his forehead on his arm, forces one breath, another. The water runs down his face, catching at his mouth. It tastes vaguely chlorinated when he sticks out his tongue. 

When John opened the door, Ben couldn’t even speak for a moment, relief making him twitch. “What the fuck, Boot.” Ben had offered help, not even sure what he was saying, John’s face giving him nothing. “I don’t need a nursemaid. I’m handling this.” That had snapped Ben out of it enough for him to answer, “By overdosing on painkillers?” John had closed his front door in Ben’s face. The afterimage of John’s eyes seemed to float in the air for a moment, superimposed on the glass panel. 

Chickie had said, “Don’t make the same mistake I did.” Ben’s fingers tighten reflexively. _What do you want?_ His dick is starting to feel heavy, full. 

John closed the door. His eyes were still looking at Ben. 

_I want._ Ben is hard now; he strokes, once, twice, again, harder. _John._ It’s sick, jacking off to the thought of John closing the door in his face. He tightens his grip again. It hurts. 

_What do you want?_ Ben keeps going anyway. 

It takes him forever to come; his arm hurts, his dick hurts. He peels his other arm off the tiles, leaving an imprint of them on his forearm. He turns off the water and just stands in shower for a minute, out of breath. 

After Daisy broke up with him, John gave him the speech about how converting an on duty contact to an off duty relationship is against the rules. About how lust is just a feeling, not a force of nature; how it’s something that can be managed, not something unstoppable. “You can choose to act on it, or not.” Ben had nodded.

He steps out of the shower. He can feel the water sliding down his body, dripping onto the bathroom floor. He leaves a trail of wet footprints into the bedroom.

_What do you want?_ Ben pulls back the comforter and eases himself onto the bed. He curls up around his pillow, dampness soaking through the pillowcase. 

_I want you to choose me._


End file.
